


I THINK I KNOW

by filesfolder



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Experimental writing, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, lapslock, this porn doesn't have plot it has Feelings, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filesfolder/pseuds/filesfolder
Summary: loving your best friend the way taeyong did was reckless. though taeyong would argue that he never stood a chance, and that he was set up from the beginning.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	I THINK I KNOW

**Author's Note:**

> have you ever read slowburn....... but it's just the porn part? well you're about to!  
> not beta read we (i) die like men (lil bitches)  
> [the song & title inspo!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FLaAOHv3qCY)

loving your best friend the way taeyong did was reckless. though taeyong would argue that he never stood a chance, and that he was set up from the beginning.

the realization doesn't hit him hard, doesn't leave him out of breath. it comes upon much like the flap of a butterfly's wings; he may not have been entirely aware of it's presence or hear it's approach, he may not have been prepared for seeing doyoung in a way that makes the lamp's glow across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and eyebrow seem a little like he was painted into a space where only he would fit, perfectly put and poised by an estranged artist's hands, with both careful and manic brushstrokes like he was chasing the image of a memory about to fade... but it's there and there's not a lot of consequence to it being so.

oh, but it's reckless, so reckless to think like that. 

doyoung is not beauty in words and metaphors, he's beauty in the physical that you can see and touch, and taeyong is seeing a little more than he should have allowed himself in the first place.

something tightens in his stomach, something hard going down his throat as he swallows the same taste as a bitter pill-- it's confusing, mentally, realizing you're not as self aware as you may have previously thought.

"i missed you," he says, anyway. because it was an easy truth, and it's easier to allow himself the break.

he steps to doyoung and pulls him into a hug, not thinking about it when his fingers start to trace the other's form like he's taking inventory of a body he has no right over. his hands run through the paint of the picture. gripping at doyoung's waist, lifting the fabric only enough to get him a taste of the soft skin his large shirt hides. he flattens his both of his palms, using his left to run them over doyoung's lower back, fingertips catching on the waist band of his shorts... his right's fingers slowly tracing the trail upwards inside the dent in his spine. "so much." he finishes with as much breath to make a feather airborne.

as it is, counting the parts of doyoung that don't belong to him is the only way he can assure that he's still all there. just as he left him. _exactly_ as he left him. again, his stomach tightens, feeling loose and freefalling from any sense of gravity towards his center, but the familiarity of this almost sick feeling does nothing but serve to remind him that nothing about this revelation is new.

taeyong thinks his body feels far too tight for these buried parts of himself to be unfurling like a wire snapped.

he's not sure what changed, he's not sure what shifted, he's not sure why the world seems to want to tilt on it's axis and throw him for a loop. when the tension became so unbalanced between them, the lines broke loose, leaving taeyong standing in the wake of the chaos, having not a sense of direction but foreword because he simply didn't have any other choice.

taeyong does things carefully. he does things slowly. he breaks them down. he compartmentalizes. but something is tinging in his chest and it's all he can do to pull doyoung closer. he doesn't question it when that seems to do nothing but make it hurt just a little more. he's getting used to the unfamiliar familiar.

taeyong simply can't do anything when the room is spinning but nothing falls out of place. there's nothing added, nothing gained... taeyong feels like a fresh trainee all over again-- falling on his ass as he trips over his own feet, sweat dripping from his forehead while not having any sense of direction but down. foreword. down. they look so similar now, don't they?

he's known doyoung for almost 10 years now, but he'd fallen in the first two.

no, there's nothing new about this at all.

there's the closed door, lights off besides the two lamps giving off the same blue light as the sky outside the window. there's the sun falling like it always does, but taeyong feels as if he's being mocked in the irony of it. there's doyoung in his hands, pressed against his chest, his own heart pounding as he matches doyoung's beat; there's that carefully kept rhythm, that self preservation, that hiding himself where he feels most comfortable. there's doyoung.

he'd learned these steps when they were both trainees, he just doesn't know when he stopped feeling his body move.

he supposed it was when _doyoung_ became enough. the just doyoung, the _simple, it's enough like this, because there's doyoung_. when having him however he he could, not asking for more, only giving if the younger asked him to, became that familiar he'd have to live with. even when it hurt. especially when it did.

he was in love with his bestfriend, and this was okay. until tonight, apparently. tonight, it just sort of makes him take pause. he was _in love_ with his bestfriend.

more than reckless, it was stupid.

when you have everything you should want, even in their barest forms, when things already have their place and their use, wanting _more_ than what is supposed to be enough was... stupid. yes, it was reckless, though there's not much consequence to it being so. but it was stupid and taeyong had learned it was in that, that things were the most dangerous.

but practicality justifies even the stupidest of moves, he could reason. he could. he could, so he does because taeyong's feet give out from under him far too often to not allow himself a cheat, an out. an _easy_.

so like a dangerous move in a choreo, he does it slowly... he breaks it down... he compartmentalizes. 

inventory, his hands start to move again. doyoung's in nothing but a loose oversized white tee and his white cotton sleep shorts, kneeling on his bed with arms wrapped around taeyong's neck, returning the hug with locked arms and a closeness taeyong's missed for the last two weeks he's been promoting with superm. 

doyoung is physical in a way it's hard for taeyong to rationalize why it's so bad to want this in the first place.

like a trigger to his nerves, the pain is too physical for an emotion that should only exist in his head. in his core, in the pit of his stomach, always his damn stomach, the wires pulled are taught again, making presence in a way taeyong remembers from years ago. the ghost of the shell he molded himself into before he was told he would have to be stronger to lead an entire team. 

(he's practiced for many things back then that had nothing to do with being an idol, but it's from them that's learned to be prepared for the sudden moments, learned to barely sway in the aftershock of a dropped bomb or the sensation of freezing cold water being dumped on him or the moment when the room finally stops spinning.)

he blinks slowly, focusing his eyes.

doyoung has pulled back, but not away, looking at him from under his bangs, bottom lip barely trapped under his front teeth.

familiar. reckless. beautiful. physically, the tinges of pain have always been worth it.

he kisses doyoung and wonders if this is what that enough from then tasted like.

he dips his chin to lick inside the other's mouth, swallowing doyoung's whimper when their tongues meet. he's missed the younger's taste, and is just a bit frantic to get as much of it as he can before the timer goes off that will separate the two of them, until taeyong can again get doyoung behind a closed door, safe and as away from the world as taeyong can manage. 

there's always that timer in taeyong's head, hidden behind faux security and nonchalant agreement. but this is the normal and this is what's he's practiced for. 

_enough_ is not _all_ of it, but in these moments, when his hands are allowed to roam, when he's allowed to look at the parts of doyoung he normally keeps covered, when words are swallowed more than they are listened to--he's gets a glimpse of the all. he gets a careful feel of these parts in the steps and wonders what would happen if he tried changing some of them. if he whispered something different into doyoung's ear, if his hands lingered a little longer on his hips, if he asked a single question.

but these things take time, and taeyong has learned patience is best. he's just taking inventory in a closed room with the lights off with the taste of his love on his tongue and in the back of his throat, something that's keeping him breathing but threatening to choke him at the same time.

(it took taeyong 3 years and doyoung's lips and body on two other members to realize that sometimes time and love and the awareness of things taking a lot of fucking effort just couldn't always _be_ _enough_. he could get tired, he could get frustrated, he could get... he could become...

but, well, doyoung never belonged to him, even as he had so much of taeyong.

what taeyong had become was someone who lost every bit of himself when he gave doyoung his physical body as refuge.

he'd thought he stopped moving before he could do just that, let the other have him completely while taeyong was left with only memories fading on the tip of his tongue or the back of his throat. maybe there's something to say about that, but taeyong has long decided that if he was going to be stupid, he could atleast be smart, too.

he'd meant to be. taeyong had always been a careful person.

but something got messed up along the way and he only managed to stop hurting when doyoung whined hyung enough times just like he said it. every time, the many times, served as the best practice to not remember why that was ever a bad thing.

there was nothing there for him, really he knew it, which was why he never asked, why his hands didn't linger, why his steps became familiar, but it took time to figure it out.

taeyong learned loving doyoung was much like learning a new choreo-- it's daunting at first, but you get the hang of it. as long as you do it slowly. break it down. compartmentalize.)

some things don't come easily; some things take time you have to forget is ticking, so that when you're least expecting it, when that suddenly hits, it's like it came all at once afterall.

"i missed you too," doyoung finally says after breaking the kiss and putting his face in the crook of taeyong's neck. his jet black hair was barely discernable from the thick fabric of the hood from taeyong's hoodie. pretty. taeyong's hand drops from his hair to wrap his arms around doyoung's waist.

"yeah?"

doyoung nods.

"yeah?" he says again, just to annoy him, but doyoung nods a second time anyway. taeyong feels a soft brush of hair under his chin as doyoung maneuvers his lower body, trying press himself a little closer to get as much contact between the two of them as possible.

"but how much?" he asks, the teasing lilt meant hide the lump in his throat his words had to jump over. it's enough, he reminds himself, because it has to be. it has to be enough that for the moment doyoung is in his arms and he can believe that he will never leave.

stomach.

seriousy... since when did he start feeling his body ache again?

he was expecting doyoung to playfully punch him, laugh, blow him off and effectively cut through this hard line of tension perhaps only taeyong could feel wrapping around his body like a vice.

it's just a little hard to breathe, so he presses his nose right under doyoung's ear and inhales the scent of his shampoo and fresh laundry. he was expecting doyoung to be sated, the skinship beginning to feel itchy on his body, the excitement of seeing each other wearing thin and clearing way for tinged cheeks and faux complaints of taeyong's habit of being dramatic. as if he's ever one to talk. 

he was expecting that to be it for the night, like it almost always is, and for him to be okay with that. seem to be okay with that. because his image is carefully kept, and it's the only wall far detached from his physical self he won't allow doyoung to break down even when they're like this. he gives so much to the younger, this tiny, tiny piece of security must stay if for nothing else but to survive every fall he takes as he trips on doyoung's heels.

he'll apologize in much the same way he'll confess, and hope to god doyoung can tell the difference. forgive him differently.

he's used to the enough, really, he is. it's just a little harder to ignore the pace when his stomach doesn't stop turning at the same rate. slow, and always, _always_ so god damn painful. 

how did he ever make himself numb when doyoung tastes much like fireworks look on his tongue? 

suddenly, he reminds himself, is what you don't expect. and he stopped expecting years ago.

so as such, when there's a sudden tug at the strings of his hoodie causing him to topple onto into the soft sheets of doyoung bed, he doesn't expect it.

he doesn't expect the feather light kiss under his jaw pressed by soft lips before a warm, wet heat is marking the left side of his neck from doyoung's tongue tasting him as he nimbly crawls over him to sit on his lap. doyoung's opened mouthed kisses continue up the length of his throat to right behind his ear, before trailing back down to his collar bone. his hot breath lingers on sensitive skin, taeyong feeling like he's being more and more exposed to core every time teeth brush an area doyoung's sucked on enough to make tender.

what he doesn't expect is the distinct feeling that even while having done this part of the routine over and over, it all seems so blatantly unfamiliar. like a step in the wrong place of the choreo, he's performing on two left feet. all sense of direction is lost and doyoung's showing no sign of slowing down to let him catch his breath.

taeyong's lungs fill at capacity and he seems to have forgotten how to exhale.

and nothing's inherently changed. the steps are still the same, if a little jumbled. they've done this before. of course they have. again, taeyong never stood a chance, and doyoung has always been the beauty in a bad idea.

stupid. it hurts. always something, so deep in him, simply won't stop hurting. he goes for the familiar again and falls into what as always been the most comfortable part about himself.

his hands card through doyoung's hair the same, the pressure from doyoung's weight on his lower half feels like it always has. the sounds escaping from doyoung are needy and wanton and taeyong reads into them like he's discovering something truly amazing for the first time. memories, memories--memories are not supposed to be so _present_ he thinks.

no, this is all correct. nothing's different. but for some reason, doyoung could feel a little heavier from where he's perched on his lap if he thought about it.

the weight of the other's hands may feel a bit more purposeful, slow, intent... sincere. his tongue could taste sweeter... his sounds a bit more intimate and real as he whines into taeyong's mouth when he makes sure to cant his hips up, rolling their clothed groins against eachother in that slow, unhurried greeting because doyoung's always liked that part best. but taeyong can't be trusted. not when he's so reckless as to fuck his best friend, the person he's in love with.

these could all be good signs, if he's reading them correctly--but taeyong has always been the second most romantic in the group and doyoung's missed him. all good signs that he's doing everything right, still he feels as if he's stumbling on his feet, his world distorting reality to match his momentum. another wire is being pulled tight. he fears.

so again, he asks, "how much?"

doyoung leans up, both hands curling into frustrated fists pressed into taeyong's chest; doyoung, exhaling long and loud, _pretty_ , _always_ that. fucking beautiful with swollen lips and half swollen erection trapped in his sleep shorts pressed against taeyong's own arousal--answers like it's the most obvious answer in the world:

"about as much as i always do. i hate it when you're gone, it's hard,"

doyoung's always been the most honest when they're alone together, behind closed doors, undressed or not.

and it's for that reason, taeyong wholeheartedly agrees. it is hard.

he'll need apologize for this moment, too, because he smiles at doyoung like there's a camera in the room with them instead of replying.

he ruts his pelvis up again, hands gripping doyoung closer by his thighs as he grinds into his best friend with closed eyes. it's hard because this is the part that hurts the most even though he's feeling so good; feels like he's where he's meant to be even though he hasn't deserved it. he misses the numbness, the detached way he'd look at doyoung and see nothing more than.......... what did he see when doyoung was like this before? memories fade so he forces doyoung's lips back on his to chase away something more than gain anything.

he'll apologize. he'll _apologize._

he hasn't said the words, but he still reaps the rewards of doyoung leaning forward but off of him enough to slide his shorts down, expertly ridding of them completely without toppling onto the older. he wasn't wearing underwear, but the view is still disrupted by his large shirt falling down once he resettles into taeyong's lap.

"oh, all the way?" taeyong asks, though he doesn't completely feel nor hear himself say it.

"yes. please," doyoung says already working on the belt of taeyong's pants, but he pauses at taeyong's tone. "only if you want, i mean i'm- we can do _this_ still, but i'm also... well..i'm ready for you... hyung," he says. his voice is quiet but firm. taeyong unravels a little more at his center. "i want you."

taeyong doesn't process completely, his mind reels soft music and soft blankets soft blue everywhere around him and a soft doyoung in his hands, but he understands enough. fuck, it hurts. it hurts. it hurts like something's about to give, but the pressure is too much already. doyoung has always been enough, hasn't he? but for the second time again within the hour, he has to pause.

he has to recollect. he thinks it through, combs through it all again with a fine toothed comb, slowly taking apart the events leading up to this. he compartmentalizes. he takes a deep breath-- practicality justifies even the stupidest of moves. he thinks that's enough. for now, it kind of has to be. "hyung?" taeyong says. the lilt comes easier this time as he's forced his lungs to fill with air. he tilts his head and his eyes glint in the bedside table lamp's light with faux confidence he's learned to turn off an on like a switch. _taeyong._ he thinks. _just a little bit of identity_...

"i'm not that much of a brat, give me some credit," doyoung doesn't understand because taeyong never says anything. "hyung." he says again.

but sometimes, doyoung's voice goes soft. often when he's vulnerable, always when he feels taken care of. it's one of taeyong's favorite things about him, because it's real, and makes him feel like he's doing something right when doyoung says 'hyung' like he means to say something else.

"but you're ready?" finally taeyong looks at him, with one eye and a raised eyebrow meant to look amused, but doyoung looks slightly horrified by the expression seconds before flushing the prettiest shades of red and pink. no, he's not embarrassed. taeyong knows better.

"you were coming home..." doyoung gives as way of explanation. taeyong doesn't say anything. "and i missed you."

doyoung missed him, and doyoung doesn't give so much as he relents.

so of course, doing this much is only practical.

he simply has to stop thinking so much. there is nothing new, and there is nothing to change when he' still the same coward he's always been.

 _hyung_ slips pasts doyoung's lips again like a plead and taeyong can do nothing but attach himself to that last thin thread that connects them both. hyung. he says it so prettily and taeyong can almost always fool himself into thinking he means to say something else.

with doyoung it's so easy to be a fool. and reckless. the way his back arches and presses his chest into taeyong's own, his long fingers holding onto taeyong's biceps like they're his only anchor, his lips parting to let out shaggy breaths as taeyong presses against his entrance.

slowly, slowly, oh- this was probably a bit too intimate. the sun is still out, however shaded by overcast and the heavy air of just about ready to fall rain. doyoung is under him, pliant and shaky, no snarky words exchanged or biting orders to just _get on_ with it. doyoung's missed him, but taeyong loves him too much to be content with a single glimpse at what doyoung looks like when he's ready to give taeyong something rather than relinquish.

_i'm ready for you, hyung._

sometimes taeyong thinks of the doyoung that johnny saw, different from the one that jaehyun saw, but that one at least was not much different from his own. he thinks johnny got the version of doyoung that was ready for a lot, more than what was needed for an i missed you fuck.

he's not jealous. he wasn't jealous-- there's no room for that. not as leader of the group and not as someone who could never blame doyoung for stepping into those same inevitable steps just as he did. what a harsh routine; these steps are tricky, and doyoung had been hurt enough when he finally landed. 

(really, it's just that johnny never had to get used to the enough, and it's kind of hard to relate to something so far removed from your own experience. how he managed to give it all up)-

"hyung, _please_ ," doyoung sounds like he's begging for something he's already getting. quiet huffs as his body rocks over the blankets, disturbing sensitive skin. he's biting his lips to refrain from getting to loud, but the music is doing much of the work already. his hair is a soft halo on the pillow, bangs swept in fluffy tufts away from his forehead, cheeks flushed, eyes squinting from pleasure and steadily growing exhaustion from being pumped into so thoroughly _slow_ and deep-

 _(this_ all up, he simply couldn't understand.)

some things don't come easy, and some things don't last, but doyoung isn't the beauty in words. he's the beauty in the physical you can touch, he's the beauty in a bad idea, he's the beauty in the wait for something utterly fantastic. love is fleeting, and johnny and taeyong are the most romantic in the group. love is fleeting, but doyoung is here. taeyong remembers memories like the present probably because there's isn't a lot of fucking difference.

he makes love to doyoung like his body is a confessional, kisses him like he's spilling the secrets from the whirlpool in his stomach into his mouth, hoping the pain recedes with every whimper doyoung gives him as forgiveness. he's going to hell for sure, but the truth is as good as any retribution he deserves.

stop thinking, he tells himself. for now, just stop thinking. 

he switches gears and imagines a former self when he was sure it was going to be him, when doyoung gave him that first thank you. sweet saccharine. he presses his forehead against doyoung's, and makes a wish,

"one more time, doie," he pants, "tell me what you want."

and as it is with doyoung, the one who always has it figured out, the "you." slips out easily, assured, and taeyong takes and hopes that he's not jinxing the suddenly.

he finally stops thinking.

it's starts raining; drumming against the window so hard that it almost completely drowns out the music, but the extra noise is welcome because they both have gotten louder.

taeyong grabs behind one of doyoung's knees and props his leg onto his shoulder so he can dive deeper into doyoung's warm heat. the aircon is still blowing and the rain has made it so the room has dropped a couple degrees quickly, but doyoung, oh, doyoung is so so hot around him. he feels as if he's melting on ice.

more kisses. forehead, cheek, temple, ear. doyoung's skin is salty on his tongue as he mouths at the thin skin of his neck- pale and easily markable. he leaves his trace on his collarbones instead because atleast doyoung can hide them there. he doesn't think, but he's careful and he's smart about it and that's the only justification he has.

there's no pain in his stomach as it's replaced with the erratic tingling of a close release, it drops lower and he's wrapping his hand around doyoung's dick to pace his fist with his thrusts. his bestfriend keens, over-stimulated from too many parts of himself being touched by taeyong.

taeyong doesn't expect the almost frantic "w-wait!" from doyoung, the "no don't stop," making him slow to a drag so slow he's almost not moving, confused as he looks down at doyoung meeting his gaze, an almost pained expression painted across his features. taeyong doesn't think because he was so close but the pain makes home again.

"i love you."

"oh _my god._ no- i-i'm so sorry,i shouldn't have-, i mean... _fuck_ -"

"i mean. i love you. i do. _i love you_ , and i'm sorry for saying that now, because i just. i needed to say it,"

doyoung has had his eyes closed the entire time, from the second word. like not seeing what was in front of him would make the truth not the very reality between them. pain was etched in every line and shadow on his features and he was still the most beautiful creature taeyong had ever seen. he's allowed himself to see too much but what can he do when doyoung makes such a pretty picture.

always. like no matter what he was painted into a space where only he would fit. perfectly put. poised by an estranged artist's hands, with both careful and manic brushstrokes... like he was chasing the image a memory about to fade.

taeyong brands it into his mind. all of it.

doyoung inhales hard, taeyong watching his chest rise in his peripheral from where he continues to watch doyoung's fluttering eyelids. waiting, but taeyong does not think. even when doyoung finally exhales, his eyes opening and their eyes meeting after so much time taeyong sort of forgot it existed. 

and, again, taeyong falls. he falls, _falls_ so hard in a way he knows there is really no catching himself this time. he was reckless, really, a god damn fool to think that anything would be enough when it came to kim doyoung.

"i love you," he was in love with his best friend, and it'd been inevitable from the beginning. "lee taeyong. i really, really love you, and i'm so, _so_ incredibly _sorry_ ,"

it's raining, and for some reason, doyoung is crying.

"doyoung," he whispers, and he feels the full body shiver it causes the other. his face is back to looking in pain, the tears still flowing a steady stream making his face red and blotchy, discernible even in the blue light, but doyoung didn't want him to stop fucking into him _. fucking._ he had blushed through every stuttered word, attempt at his own retribution, before he finally landed on simply asking taeyong to finish.

_"just fuck me, please, hyung. just, can we please--"_

he was embarrassed, and taeyong had not a clue as to why.

and he's not sure how he's doing it, he's not sure he's even aroused more than he is stimulated at this point. melting on ice, doyoung is so hot and he's too beautiful to cry... even so pretty.

taeyong wanted to stop thinking, but he's not sure if he's stopped or he's just managed to forget how to formulate a complete thought. kim doyoung. doyoung. almost eight years of loving him, there's nothing fleeting about that. but there's a certain rug pulled out from under you feeling when everything you know changes in such a quick instant.

the world tilts on it's axis, and the things that do move clear the way for a different perspective. something has been added and the world shifts to make space for that new reality.

taeyong was in love with his best friend, and as it turns out, doyoung was in love with him too. 

the realization doesn't hit him hard, doesn't leave him out of breath. 

it comes upon much like the flap of a butterfly's wings; he may not have been entirely aware of it's presence or hear it's approach, but it's been there. apparently.

admittedly, it's a little hard to breathe so taeyong presses his nose right under doyoung's ear and inhales the scent of his shampoo and fresh laundry. of sweat and physical desperation. 

"doyoung," he says again, sounding much too like his former self that believed in things like wishes and secret love languages. " _doyoung._ " and he's cumming into the only person he's ever loved, sinning once more in the way it was always meant to feel. _fucking phenomenal_. yes, he's going to hell, but he'll enjoy his stay.

and then he's kissing doyoung everywhere he can reach. his forehead. his cheeks. his temples. the shells of his ears. his nose, his eyelids, his lips. deep, messy, open mouthed kisses to salty lips with too much tongue and teeth, and with doyoung responding just as erratically. he's stopped crying, but he whimpers and bucks his hips into taeyong's stomach, trying to catch his own release. 

again taeyong wraps a hand around him, pumping fast with a tightened fist. doyoung's quaking with need and it's all he can do to fist the sheets and give himself over to taeyong to do as he sees fit with him. over stimulated and high on too many emotions to keep track off, doyoung comes into taeyong's fist with a cry. above the music, barely below the thunderstorm outside.

his body slumps heavily against the bed as he tries to catch his breath while avoiding taeyong's gaze as the other wipes his hand on the sheet next to his thigh.

that was fine. doyoung got his turn, with closed eyes and bitten lips-- taeyong figured the view of that was enough to offer any bit of courage he needed.

"i love you," he says. finally. finally, _finally_. "i love you."

and it's... really that simple after all, isn't it? taeyong. well, taeyong is a fool. and he is reckless. but, hey, they odds were stacked against him. kim doyoung against an unsuspecting lee taeyong. it was inevitable. he never stood a chance.

doyoung does not look at him, instead hiding his face in his elbow. taeyong leans over him again, slowly, carefully, planting his hands on either side of his head. "doie,"

doyoung shakes his head.

"doie." 

doyoung sniffs, wet, it's a gross sound, really, and for some reason taeyong is smiling the widest he has in weeks. he'll apologize. really, he will. when the rain stops and the tears from doyoung are no longer from the frustration of being in that constantly spinning unknown.

for him, there is no pain. no tight coils or whirlpools or tight wires threatening to break. he feels himself move and it's like wading through wet paint, his body aches in a way that suggests he's already crossed the finish line. but oh, there was no such thing when it came to doyoung-- _winning_ simply meant the start of making up for every time enough replaced the all of it.

there's a picture to be made here from a present memory and he uses his hand to pulls doyoung's arm away so they can paint it together. he threads their fingers together and watch as wide eyes finally meet his in a sort of apprehensive confusion. so, so beautiful. always.

"did you hear me?"

"yes."

"and?"

"i don't believe you," doyoung says, and his face scrunches like he's ready to cry again. but he breathes, two lungs full of air, and exhales loudly. "i don't fucking believe you at all."

"i'm sorry," taeyong breathes, and there must be something in his voice because doyoung's expression changes. changes drastically, from one extreme to another-- doubt, and very quickly, like a punch to the gut, realization. 

"you-- oh." doyoung said. "oh. oh, fuck." and again, he's crying, but his arms are wrapping around taeyong and pulling him closer anyway. " _i missed you_ ,"

"oh doyoung, _baby_ ," taeyong's lips are just above doyoung's, but not touching, just hovering a feather apart. his own eyes start to sting, prickling with the barely veiled emotion of so many years finally having nowhere to go but into the very mouth of the person they were meant for. "i love you, so, _so fucking much_ , you have no idea." he says every word with a kiss, the last sealing them tight when his tongue meets doyoung's like a branding iron.

he apologized in much the same way he confessed, and thankfully, doyoung could tell the difference. these are all good signs and-- well. again, taeyong stops thinking, instead falling into doyoung and holding him like he'd never have to let go. the rest can wait till the rain stops, and when the blue lifts from the window and hangs still in the sky.

taeyong learned loving doyoung was much like learning a new choreo-- it's daunting at first, but you get the hang of it. as long as you do it slowly, break it down, compartmentalize.

some things don't come easily; some things take time you have to forget is ticking, so that when you're least expecting it, when that suddenly hits, it's like it came all at once afterall.

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha.................................................................................... ha. @.@/ aye..
> 
> sorry about that. i haven't seriously written in so long (years?) and wanted to try something a bit weird. but i rewrote this thing so many times i'm practically just throwing it at you guys so i stop looking at it, i'm Sorry. <333
> 
> thank you for reading!! [📁 tweet ](https://twitter.com/neovillager)


End file.
